


patchwork

by Indigotuesday



Series: nerds hugging [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 09:02:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1852291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indigotuesday/pseuds/Indigotuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feuilly and Jehan find a home with each other</p>
            </blockquote>





	patchwork

When Feuilly was growing up he didn’t have much, just what he could fit a duffle so he could pick up and leave if necessary. When he first moved into his own apartment, this dinky little one room that one would have to be very generous to call a “studio,” his small collection of belongings looked sparse and sad clustered in the middle of the small room. “It’s very… modern,” Grantaire commented after helping him move in, tactful for once.

Others hadn’t been quite so polite. “Dude, where’s all your junk?” Courfeyrac asked, flopping down in the middle of the futon and throwing his arms over the top, crossed legs sprawling across the bare floor like he owned the place.

Feuilly just doesn’t need that much. He is proud to have an apartment of his own, even if it’s just a shoe box with a kitchenette. He’s got a futon and a bookshelf, both from the thrift store and in fairly good condition. There’s a card table and folding chair from the previous owner up against the wall that he sits at to do school work and eat. Sometimes, he pulls the chair over next to the couch to put up hold his drink or put up his feet. He can’t think of anything else that he needs.

Jehan is the only person who hasn’t commented on the fact that Feuilly only owns four pieces of furniture. Not that their friends would ever judge him, but most of them always invite him over to theirs, or to meet places, like they’re trying to give him a nice place to be. Jehan, on the other hand, often invites himself over to Feuilly’s, only texting with a few minute’s warning before he shows up at the door.

The first time, just after Feuilly moves out of the dorms and into his apartment, Jehan texts asking if he can come over. Five minutes later, Feuilly hears a knock at the door and opens it to find Jehan, arms full to the brim with textbooks and foot outstretched to kick the door again. Jehan lays on his hardwood floor, reading his book, kicking his feet in the air, and humming to himself for a few hours. They don’t really talk, but it’s a comfortable silence.

Jehan seems to take his lack of objection that first time as a signal that he can come over whenever he wants. It’s not like Feuilly minds. Jehan studies on the floor and sometimes does experimental cooking in the kitchen so they can eat together at the card table (Jehan sits on the table itself, because there’s only one chair. He says he prefers it.). Afterwards, he pulls up movies on his laptop for them to watch together while they cuddle on the futon. He is becoming a part of the standard scenery of the apartment, just as much as the folding chair.

One night Jehan falls asleep on the floor, which is common enough that Feuilly has a routine. He gently rubs his hand over Jehan’s shoulders and down his back, whispering his name until his eyes slowly blink open. There are knots in Jehan’s shoulders that the floor isn’t doing any good and his theoretical physics textbook has pressed a red line into his cheek. His hair is a fuzzy halo, his sweater falling off his shoulder.

Gently, he guides Jehan to stand. He sways on his feet and drifts into Feuilly, who brings his arms up to support him. Jehan loops his arms around Feuilly’s neck and pulls him into a hug. They stand there in the middle of the room for a long minute, Jehan leaning heavily on him and blinking up at him with tired eyes, before Feuilly leads them over to the folded out futon.

"I really like it here," Jehan whispers muzzily before they fall asleep, laying side by side.

Feuilly leaves for work early in the morning. Jehan is still asleep, starfish sprawled over the bed and smiling into the pillow.

When Feuilly gets home that night, the futon is neatly folded back up and a quilt is draped over the back. It’s thick and clearly homemade, a little clumsy in places. It’s made up of a patchwork of different patterned fabric, probably picked for their textures rather than their aesthetics - they’re all very soft and clash horribly.

It is warm and it looks like home. He loves it.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr for more fics with gratouitous hugging, I also happily take prompts - indigotuesday.tumblr.com


End file.
